


A Midsummer Night's Dream (or what happens backstage)

by elainebarrish



Category: Scott & Bailey
Genre: F/F, I shouldn't be allowed to write fic, i'm so sorry about this, idk I haven't written in ages and it was suggested and I just, really it's awful idk what I'm doing, so I just did what I had to to make the au happen, yeah so basically the premise would never ever work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elainebarrish/pseuds/elainebarrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Suddenly the makeup artist quits, and the production is stuck with no one to cover everyone in glitter, but you most of all as your costume seemed to include having more glitter on your face then you believed strictly necessary, and the problem is it’s due to start in three weeks.</p><p>Four days before opening night you’re wandering into the green room to find your boss dabbing some garish eyeshadow onto one of the other girls."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer Night's Dream (or what happens backstage)

**Author's Note:**

> so the AU is from this post http://fabulouskilljoy.co.vu/post/103935711181/some-aus thank u to viola for linking me!!!! Yeah so the one I went with is "You’re the one person who can do my elaborate stage makeup so every night you spend half an hour in close proximity to my face and I am Distressed au". For some reason I thought this sounded perfect for gill/rachel but I kinda think everything does sO have fun.

You were laughing as you agreed to be in it, not thinking about it, and when you audition you don’t really expect to get a part, you were just messing around, auditioning because someone told you to. It’s not until people are talking about elaborate stage makeup and wings that you consider all of the ways in which you are not right for the role of Titania, and that you never planned to end up wearing wings on a stage in an amateur production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s the kind of production that makes a huge deal out of everything, huge sets with fake grass and every cast member was wearing at least three large pieces of costume jewellery each.  
Suddenly the makeup artist quits, and the production is stuck with no one to cover everyone in glitter, but you most of all as your costume seemed to include having more glitter on your face then you believed strictly necessary, and the problem is it’s due to start in three weeks, and you could have sworn you didn’t care but you’re just as worried as everyone else as they ask around, searching for someone who’s proficient at eyeliner and getting glitter just in the right places.  
Four days before opening night you’re wandering into the green room to find your boss dabbing some garish eyeshadow onto one of the other girls, Julie grinning at you as you approach cautiously. It had been Julie who’d convinced you to audition, just for a laugh, had thought it was a good idea for police officers to have a presence in a LGBT amateur theatre group. It was a laugh for most of them, middle-aged with other jobs they do during the day. And they were fun, and you got on well with all of them. But you could have sworn Gill was straight, and you decide that she must be, that she’s just here because you were desperate, and Julie’s shown you some of the pictures of the two of them from the 80’s; she knows her way around florescent eye makeup well enough.  
You nod to Julie as you sit down, attempting to act as naturally as possible even as she frowns at the notes that the last makeup artist had left, her face screwed up in adorable concentration. Julie was smirking at you, like she knows you’re not sure what to do, that Gill showing up here was about the last thing you could have expected, that you didn’t know how to handle it. Crushing on your boss was bad enough, but when she appears at the place you used to get away from work, where you went when the others were working more hours than they’d ever get paid for, it’s hard for you to process. You’d been a behind the scenes lackey before, helping to paint sets and move lights and grunt work that others didn’t want to do, and this was the first time you’d been one of the ones in costume.  
“So, queen of the fairies? Wouldn’t have thought all of the glitter was your thing,” Gill is smiling as she turns to you armed with some sponge or other, tipping your head up with two fingers without seeming to think about it, without thinking about how close it lead to your faces being. You try and look anywhere but directly into her eyes, which are a much prettier colour than you’d ever noticed before, and you end up settling on looking at Julie who looks so smug you rather want to throttle her. You laugh, late and awkward, following her comment when she’s turned to get another a brush, her hands no longer on your face driving you to distraction.  
“Yeah, well Julie forced me into auditioning, I’m usually more of a behind the scenes girl.”  
“I knew this was where Julie had been hiding but she didn’t tell me you were, suppose she thought I’d complain that it takes up precious murder-solving time,” she laughs, smiling at Julie, who also laughs, then she turns back and her face is suddenly so close to yours you can’t breathe again, and you’re distracted as the two of them throw playful barbs back and forth. Occasionally Gill’s gaze meets yours and you’re constantly floored by the combination of her fingers brushing against your cheek and her gorgeous eyes flashing in your direction. Julie suddenly wanders off, called to help with something, and you spend what is simultaneously the best and worst ten minutes of your life in silence as she dusts things onto your cheekbones and manages to get glitter everywhere (as required). You have the most spectacular makeup of the entire cast, and she looks frustrated by the time she’s finished.  
“I can’t believe we’ve ended up covered in glitter in a run-down theater, we’re detectives for god’s sake,” she mutters as you stand up, and she moves forward to adjust your wings from where they’ve moved from you being sat down.  
“Thanks,” you smile. “Everyone needs a hobby right, even detectives as good as us.”  
“This is not quite what I had in mind,” she grumbles, but she’s smiling as she starts putting things away, and someone comes to collect you because the dress rehearsal has started and you’re due on any minute.

Gill doesn’t mention it at work, and you follow her lead. You go to the theatre the next two nights after work and spend all saturday there, doing last minute rehearsals and to make sure everything is ready for opening night. The whole production team is scrambling around in a state of panic, but then it’s time to get dressed, to go to makeup, and you’re nervous for a completely different reason. It’s opening night but you’re more worried about her hands softly touching your face, tipping up your chin, fingers skimming your cheekbones, eyes close to yours, than you are about your stage debut. She’s waiting for you, looking as calm as ever (though there’s glitter all over one side of her face, like it’s been wiped there absentmindedly by an inpatient hand and she hadn’t noticed). Julie and everyone else aren't around, and other than distant yelling and crashing noises the room is silent. You’re hyper aware of your breathing echoing into the small space, even though she hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re fidgeting today, you know you are, but you’re only aware that you’re pulling on your costume when she lays a hand over yours, stopping you before your worrying does any damage.  
“If you’re going to fidget, fidget with something that someone else won’t have to waste time fixing,” she says sternly, in her ever familiar boss voice, and you chuckle weakly as she draws her hand away, even as you mourn the loss.  
You barely survive makeup, and you’re so flustered by the time you get to waiting backstage for your cue that when Julie sees you she mimes fanning you, grinning like she knows what caused it. Working on a couple of productions together means the two of you are close, though no where as close as you and Janet, but close enough that she leans towards you with a smirk and casually asks: “How was makeup?”  
You want to punch her, but much of your relationship is built on teasing and only almost punching (plus you’re not completely sure who would win in a fight, and you don’t want to risk it). “Why her, of all people?” you muster, knowing you sound like a whiny fifteen year old with her first proper crush.  
“Why not?” she asks, and you know she wants to make you admit out loud that you have a huge gay crush on your straight boss.  
“I’m not gonna say it,” you mutter, even as she smirks at you, victorious with what she was taking as an admission.  
“You looked so lovestruck as she did your makeup last time, almost as though you couldn’t believe it was happening,” she grinned. “It was more than worth all of the begging to get her to agree to do it.”  
“Does she know?” you question, panic obvious in your voice as you snap to attention, glaring at Julie.  
“I don’t think so, or at least she’s refusing to accept the signs. She mostly doesn’t tend to consider women as an option, even ones at LGBT theatre groups.”  
“So she’s not straight, but she doesn’t date women very often?”  
“They’re harder to find, so she only chases them when she’s very interested and she’s sure they’ll reciprocate. As I’m sure you can imagine, those two things don’t intermingle very often.” You’re still processing this information, this tiny blooming hope Julie had laid in front of you like some kind of offering, when you’re called onto stage, and the lights dazzle all thought from your mind.

You’re back in your own clothes when you next see Gill, talking to the woman that plays Hippolyta, the one that you knew would be in interested in Gill for sure, and you have to grit your teeth to stop yourself from saying anything, knowing that even though she was younger than you, older coppers were her type. Gill’s saved by Julie who sweeps her away, but not without Julie taking a moment to look at you, almost as if to say “I’ve got your back.” You’re thankful.

Four performances later you wish you could say that you’d got used to the excruciating twenty minutes you spent in the makeup chair each night, but you’d be lying. You hadn’t even got used to just not mentioning it at work, though you’d never talked about it, it felt stranger when Julie popped in occasionally and made sure to give you meaningful looks, like she was constantly a mix of amused by your crush and frustrated that you hadn’t managed to woo Gill yet, as if you planned to do that. Janet knows where you go after work every night, you’d given her a ticket for tonight’s performance, but you hadn’t managed to inform her of Gill’s involvement. You can’t be bothered to see all of the looks Janet will give you, the purposefully funny texts when you’re trying to maintain a professional demeanor, (you hope Gill wasn’t there when you, Julie and some others had chased each other through the theatre with loaded paintbrushes while you were supposed to be painting scenery), and the teasing questions of “how was last night?” whenever she saw you. You know you have terrible luck, and found yourself fully expecting to bump into Gill as you showed Janet around after the performance, making her wait a minute while you changed back into your own clothes and removed your makeup. Lo and behold when you emerged Janet was chatting with your two co-workers.  
“You never told me these two worked here,” she said in way of greeting, eyebrows raised.  
“Well it never came up,” you laughed weakly. “I thought I told you about Julie anyway, because I was trying to set her up with one of the others, remember?”  
“Oh yes, Irene or something, wasn’t it?” she asked, smirking at Julie, who was glaring daggers in your direction.  
“Ingrid. Funnily enough she was our previous makeup artist,” you paused, smiling. “You don’t happen to know what happened to her, do you?”  
“Look, I was not involved in her leaving-” she started on a spiel that all but Janet had already heard, but Gill cut her off, rolling her eyes.  
“I would suggest the pub but Shakespeares are so bloody long it’s rather past my preferred bedtime.”  
“Yeah when you invited me you didn’t tell me it was going to be three hours long,” Janet whined, smiling.  
“I assumed you knew,” you rolled your eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen one of his plays?”  
“It has been rather a long time,” she laughed, and the four of you stood smiling for a moment.  
“Well fuck it I’m going to the bloody pub even if I have to get up in eight hours.”  
“Just one drink won’t do any harm,” you try, but they all give you a look that makes it clear they know full well what you’re like. You’re all laughing as you head off, Julie and Janet guiding the conversation, bridging the gap that your crush and her place as your boss sometimes created.

You wake up with a hangover, of course, but also with a smile; it’d been a fun night at the pub, with Gill it always was. You’re grinning into your pillow, thinking about Gill laughing with you, teasing and joking around with you all, and you’d been so starved for that kind of attention from her, when your phone rings. You don’t even check the caller ID, and the grin is obvious in your voice, something your caller immediately picks up on.  
“Well someone’s awfully chipper this morning, might it have something to do with your interactions with our esteemed leader last night?”  
“She can chase away any hangover,” you respond as sappily as possible, laughing as Janet makes retching noises in the background.  
“God would you just marry her already I do not want to deal with this anymore.”  
“I’m trying,” you laughed, sitting up.  
“Well then you better get to it, there’s a body.”  
“Shit,” you muttered, sliding out of bed and wobbling to the kitchen with your phone still pressed to your ear.  
“We all know she’s most amenable to flirting while wearing a blue plastic suit. See you soon.” She hung up as you rolled your eyes, already gingerly sipping a glass of water and looking for the paracetamol.

Everyone’s stressed as Gill is the first to leave, followed by you, with no explanation, just that you have somewhere to be. You leave at different times, and no one realises you’re going to the same place, apart from Janet. Your hangover is gone but you’re still knackered and you’re thinking about taking a nap during the interval as you sit down in the makeup chair, and you blush when you jump as she touches your chin to guide your face upwards. She rolls her eyes at your reaction, smiling as she goes back to her task, knowing she has to be done in time for you to be ready for your cue, and that you like some extra time to stand ready, usually being teased by Julie. You almost want to say something, to mention work, but you still haven’t broken the silence that lays around the topic, haven’t properly confronted the fact that she’s your boss during the day. She hasn’t said anything about the fact that you stare at her, that she’s caught you at work and that you’re blatant here. Maybe she think you just don’t know what the correct etiquette for when people are that close to your face is. Maybe she thinks you stare at everyone? You become hyper aware that you’re still staring and blush, attempting to stare into the middle distance instead of at her, trying to force your face into calming down.  
“If you keep on blushing like that I’m not going to be able to tell whether it’s makeup or not,” she’s got a tiny smirk on her face, and you know your eyes are wide open, shock painted all over your features by this practically overt admission, an admission of the thing that’s hanging in the air.  
“Sorry, but acknowledging the blush only makes it worse,” you laugh and she does too, a little.  
“Typical. Even your face fights being told what to do.”  
“Hey I don’t -” you start on reflex, but you’re laughing before you can finish - your problem with authority used to make you question why on earth you’d go into the police, but it turned out that it was just that the person doing the instructing had to be a particular person.  
“Of course you don’t,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling, her hand hovering above your cheekbone, and you’re suddenly full of the urge to do something that could potentially ruin your burgeoning career. You’re sitting up, leaning forwards, reaching out, and you’re relieved when she meets you halfway, smiling, kissing you back, soft and warm and sure. She mutters something about “finally”, and you chuckle into the small space between your mouths. You don’t even notice until later that she managed to wipe glitter into your hair, not until Julie notices it as you rush to be on time for your cue, and the answering blush leaves her laughing so loudly she has to be shushed urgently by everyone backstage, and as you leave she warns you you haven’t heard the end of this.


End file.
